Unraveling
by Addicted1
Summary: Addison POV. One shot. References an alternative backstory for her affair with Mark than the one provided in episode 3.5. Maddison and Addek friendly.


Author's Note: This is just a one-shot, Addison POV on her Derek/Mark situation. Canon through Episode 3.4; I am choosing to ignore 3.5. I hope you enjoy it. I'm currently working on sort of a sister-story to this one that would be more of an actual story (with dialouge!), so we'll see how that goes.

Addison Shepherd had always been extremely self-aware. A high "self-monitor" is what her Psych 101 professor had called her. Control being paramount to the world Addison occupied, it only followed that she would exert the most over herself. Every reaction, every decision, every word was carefully chosen and executed. After all, Addison understood the importance of appearances and the fact that others' perceptions of her created her reality. She had carefully crafted her image as Dr. Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd, the consummate, confident, brilliant professional who did not require validation from anyone. Every detail worked toward maintaining this projection—the carefully manicured nails, the perfectly dyed hair, the killer Prada heels.

But, Addison was a high enough self-monitor to know that she was unraveling. All the details that routinely came together effortlessly in New York to make her Dr. Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd, neonatal surgeon extraordinaire, were just not flowing with their usual ease.

The cross country move to Seattle had obviously made all of those details more difficult to execute. She needed to find a new salon (because there was no way she was going to attempt to dye her own hair in the trailer's miniscule excuse for a bathroom), a new place to shop (because online purchasing is cheating), a new gym, a new coffee place that would make her iced white chocolate mocha latte.

Well, she had been in Seattle for a few months now, and she had found every item on her checklist—in some cases enjoying her Seattle substitute better than the New York original. (She had become completely addicted to running in the rain.)

Now though, even with her routine (as much of a "routine" as a highly successful surgeon can develop) firmly established, she could feel her perfect control start to erode around the edges. Oh sure, she still looked fabulous—the perfect hue of red hair, the carefully manicured eyebrows, the amazing wardrobe—but the tight rein on her emotions, reactions, and behavior was slipping.

Lately, she found herself acknowledging the feeling of isolation that would hit her about once every two or three days, instead of shoving it to the side and reminding herself that she was with Derek, her husband, her best friend, so any unhappy feeling must be completely ridiculous. She was where she belonged. And, if she wasn't, it was her own fault, so she had no right to complain or indulge self-pitying feelings.

The systematic rationalization, cataloguing, and analyzing of any unpleasant thoughts was a finely tuned art form for Addison, and, in New York, it had ceased to be a conscious process any longer. Here in Seattle, however, her automatic dismissal of unpleasantries was not nearly so automatic.

There were simply not enough distractions, not enough priorities to occupy her time and energy. The requirements of her job hadn't altered materially from coast to coast, but in New York, there had been more standards by which to measure herself. In Seattle, she was an acclaimed surgeon and attempting to be an ideal wife. In New York, she was an acclaimed surgeon, was filling the social role of the wife of an acclaimed surgeon, but she was also a best friend, a daughter, a co-worker, a mentor, and even, potentially, a mother.

Her adultery, however, and her subsequent move to Seattle, had destroyed or eroded those other aspects of her life. Her best friend, Rebecca, had warned her that Mark was pursuing her – a "predator", she called him—and, while she knows that Rebecca still loves her, is still in her corner, and will surely blame Mark, Derek, and all of the forces of the universe rather than Addison herself for the predicament she is now in, Addison just hasn't been able to call her since the voicemail she left letting Rebecca know that she had landed in Seattle. She just doesn't know what she would say. She's never lied to Rebecca and saying the truth out loud is just to painful. "Hi, Rebecca. Yeah, it's Addie. Great! How are you? Oh, that's awesome. Yeah. Everything is fine with me too. My husband just won't look at me, everyone here thinks I'm Satan, oh, and the intern my husband is in love with is the complete antithesis of me, ten years younger, and not a fling. Yeah, life is great in Seattle." She just couldn't stomach it.

And as for her parents, well, she definitely wasn't ready to address that. Despite the fact that neither her mother nor her father had actually wanted her to marry Derek (a plethora of reasons centering around the "too young," "doctors shouldn't marry other doctors—that's a form of incest," and "he's too insecure for you, Ads"), she knew that they liked the idea of a divorce in the family even less. "Montgomery's do not get divorced," her grandmother had told her, and, dated as the statement may be, some part of that mentality was ingrained in Addison. She didn't want to be a disappointment, and she didn't have the energy to lie, so she just didn't talk to them as much anymore.

She did think, however, that the lack of her usual support network could be bearable though, if only her working environment were not quite so antagonistic. She knew, of course, when she flew out to Seattle, that she would be cast in the role of the "bad guy," since Derek would have home court advantage, but she had not calculated for Meredith. Usually, Addison could win over just about any audience. Her manner is not friendly in a traditional manner, but her combination of honesty, humor, and straightforward kindness charmed most people. Addison had anticipated having to win over people that her husband had prejudiced against her due to their separation. She had not anticipated having to win over people that her husband hadn't even bothered to prejudice against her, as he was too preoccupied being in love with an intern in front of the entire staff of the hospital. Instead of being the "adulterous bitch," she was the love-killing, malicious, adulterous bitch that destroyed one of the best-liked intern's lives.

In what way that image was fair, she could not determine, particularly as she had no idea of Meredith's existence until she arrived at Seattle Grace. What was indisputable, however, was that that was and is indeed her image, and that fact has made working in the hospital less than ideal. If she had thought that working for Richard, her former teacher, would make it easier, than she was completely wrong. While it was nice, particularly at first, to see a familiar and friendly face, it was not worth it to see the growing pity in his eyes as her personal failures make the hospital gossip headlines.

Her paperwork days, days without the adrenaline from surgeries, are the days that she misses New York the most. Paperwork days are the days when she notices that no one talks to her voluntarily, that her husband avoids her like she's a malpractice lawyer, that she doesn't have a single person to eat lunch with. Those were the days when she would not be able to stop herself from clicking her heels three time and wishing to be back in Manhattan with Doug and his peanut butter and banana sandwiches, Angie and her ridiculous obsession with Laguna Beach, and all of her other friends on the opposite coast.

A couple weeks into her new life in Seattle, Addison had actually been naïve enough to believe that she could make friends, or at least a friend. She saw so much of herself in Izzie Stevens, and she knew that she had a lot to teach her. She also knew that if there was a single person in Seattle Grace Hospital that would give her a fair chance to be someone other than "Satan", than that person was Izzie. After all, Addison listened to the rumor mills too, and Izzie had even given Karev a chance to be a decent human being.

But, then the quints happened, and Izzie refused to acknowledge the lesson or forgive Addison for teaching it. So, Addison did not have a single friend in Seattle.

For a while, the isolation was a blessing. She had felt that if she could just get away, just remove herself from the remains of her shattered New York life, then everything would be okay. (As much as she was loathe to admit it, she supposed that she shared that mentality with her husband.)

Even if Richard hadn't called asking her to come to Seattle, even if Derek had signed the divorce papers and sent her packing, she supposes that she and Mark would have ended anyway. As wonderful as he had been to her through the dissolution of her marriage and the most recent of her miscarriages, she simply couldn't stay with him. He was that ever-present reminder of all of the ways she had failed.

Seeing him in Seattle brought all of that baggage crashing back down around her. She had not been prepared to see him outside of their context in New York, and she definitely had not been prepared to justify to him why see had not told Derek about the baby. She knew that Mark would be disgusted with her cowardice—she was disgusted with her cowardice—but she was not ready to answer the hard questions out loud. It was as if saying the words would make the entire experience—and all of the pain—more real.

If she were being completely honest with herself, which of course she was not, then she would know that the real reason she had not told Derek was that she simply could not bear to see the kindness and the pity in his eyes. The accusatory coldness she could deal with, but the pity, the pity would be her undoing. She knew Derek—eleven years of marriage saw to that—and she knew that if he knew, then he would feel obligated to stay with her, to kiss it and make it better, and even he could not fix this. His hero-complex, however, would compel him to try.

Maybe, though, maybe she could accept all of those consequences, if he had shown any other inclination of still caring for her, any desire to understand why she had an affair, why she did not follow him to Seattle immediately. But, he did not want to know any of those things. He wanted to remain securely on his moral high ground where what she did was incomprehensible and inexcusable, and he was the martyred husband who had given up his perfect girlfriend to stand by his unfaithful wife.

Well, that was fine with her. He could keep his "good guy" image, and she could keep her secrets.

If only they weren't pulling her apart at the edges.


End file.
